Recovering
by Zxel
Summary: He wonders if the tag would blow up if he were to climb that tree growing up the side of the fence and escape. There are break outs here every other day, via that old tree, but no one has bothered to hack it down yet. [Garycentric][GaryPetey][Oneshot]


**Recovering**

They've tagged him.

Like... like an animal or something.

They've fucking _tagged _him. The identification bracelet catches the sun, shining Gary's name, address, and number code back into his face as he twirls it around his wrist. It's like a plastic hospital band, he thinks, but he's only been hospitalized once, so he doesn't honestly remember, and the band on his wrist _now _doesn't list his allergies.

_Peanuts, cat dander, and shellfish._

He wonders if the tag would blow up if he were to climb that tree growing up the side of the fence and escape the perimeter of Happy Volts. There are break outs here every other day, via that old tree, but no one has bothered to hack it down yet. Anyway, it wouldn't matter if his bracelet exploded or not. If he steps out of line now, it's the end, finite, thank you for coming. Gary's only got one chance to get back into Bullworth.

So he lounges in the yard, spinning his ID bracelet and watching the other inmates shuffle around the grounds in identical blue gowns. Gary has one too; it's lose-fitting and sags to his shins. He's the youngest, smallest patient here.

The large, camera-eyed statue that the loonies call 'The Watcher' juts into the air before him, rivaling the asylum itself. A behemoth. Gary knows what it really is: a system of wires, like everything else in this nut house, but the other patients are too fucked up to realize this. He wonders if he will be, too, by the end of the summer. Possibly, if the staff keeps cramming pills down his throat.

Gary's stomach churns in protest to the very thought.

The doors of the asylum creak open at exactly noon. They're letting the block A patients into the yard - yard, like it's a goddamn kennel. Gary is block B, so the A blockers avoid him as they pour out of the main doors. There are many of them, and they aren't as nutso as his comrades in block B. They're highly aware of this, as is Gary. It's like the cliques at Bullworth all over again.

Gary notices several of their eyes dart over towards the fence tree. They believe that they're smarter than the orderlies.

He _is _smarter than the orderlies, but he's smarter than block A as well. He knows who to manipulate around here.

Distracted by the process of reciting all of the names of the orderlies' children in his head so he can ask about them later, it takes Gary a moment to notice that one of the A blockers is approaching him. He's snuck up on Gary, so it's too late to glare him away now. The other patient doesn't seem to realize what a huge deal it is that he's broken Gary's defenses; he just stands there, arms folded across his chest, regarding Gary casually.

He analyzes right back. Nobody stares down Gary Smith.

The inmate is slightly taller than he is, nothing special, and his hair is darker than Jimmy Hopkins's, but cut the same, which is slightly annoying. The barest hints of stubble are sprinkled across his chin. His eyes however, are focusing normally, and that's a plus. Gary tries not to sneer when the guy plops down on the grass beside him.

"Hey," Says the inmate, looking away from him, "What you in for?"

Gary scowls. He should've expected more idiocy. "I sold my cookies to the wrong people. It really pissed off my scout mistress."

Unexpectedly, the other man laughs. From the sound of it, he's a heavy smoker, even though he looks very young. Probably a townie, Gary thinks. "You know, for a loon, you've got a pretty good sense of humor."

"I'm not some crazie."

"Sure you aren't, kid. That's why they put you in the B block."

"Don't _patronize _me." Gary warns. There's a dangerous tone in his voice that even he can detect. The A blocker holds up his hands peaceably.

"Easy, man." He says quickly. "I don't want no trouble."

The inmate produces a pack of cigarettes quite suddenly. Gary doesn't question from where. As far as he's concerned, he's got this guy pegged. The inmate is new, because he doesn't even have the tell-tale blue top yet. However, he acts like he knows the place. So he's some repeat-offender truant who escaped and wasn't checked before the orderlies tossed him back in. This theory is further validated by the fact that the townie is able to pull a lighter from his back pocket a second later.

He presses a cigarette stick into Gary's palm and begins to light up his own. His grin is feral as he says, "I enjoy burning stuff. That's why _I'm _here."

"Arson," Gary feels like smiling, but doesn't. "Nice."

"Third time they've dragged me back in." The inmate says proudly. Gary grunts. Definitely a repeat-offender truant. "Need my lighter?"

"I don't." Gary says. "Smoke, I mean."

The townie shrugs, takes a drag of his cigarette, and breathes out a long, slow stream of smoke. The orderlies have yet to notice.

"I'm Henry, by the way." He says, staring at The Watcher and grinning as he leans back onto the overgrown grass.

"Gary." The B blocker replies, fidgeting with the cigarette. "Gary Smith."

Henry sucks in a considerable amount of smoke and gives a loud, spluttering cough. The cigarette stick tumbles from his lips. "_You're _Gary Smith!? The kid who turned Bullworth Academy into a battleground!? Dude, no way!"

This is really a conversation Gary would rather not be having, but he can't help but feel a little surge of pride at the fact that he appears to be infamous among the townies. "I didn't make Bullworth history just to have people tell me that I couldn't have done it."

"Sorry- Wow! Sorry." Henry stutters, staring at Gary with an odd mix of admiration and disbelief. He rolls onto his side, back to the orderlies, and leans in close. "I uh..." He looks as if he's searching for Gary's approval now. "I helped Gurney set the Bullworth gym on fire."

"That was you?" Gary lets out a sharp bark of laughter that causes several orderlies to snap their heads in his direction. He is still chuckling as he has Henry light up the end of his cigarette.

-----

There's a ritual here at Happy Volts that he's fallen into. Or rather, that the orderlies have shoved him into.

Every day, the orderlies wake him at eight-thirty in the morning, after which he showers, dresses in his standard blue gown (which he doesn't _need_), and heads off to breakfast. It's amazing how much this place is like Bullworth, and Gary wants to laugh because he's noticing so many similarities between a high school and a _mental _asylum, but the orderlies don't really approve of spontaneous laughter here, and there's always a herd of them escorting him to breakfast, as well as lunch and dinner. Gary Smith has his own personal entourage.

After breakfast, Gary does therapy with the other inmates, which is a always invigorating, considering that more often than not, he's playing mother to some brain-dead loony that's just had a dozen or so medicines put into him via his orange juice. Good times roll, and after therapy sessions, they're allowed out into the yard for some personal time under The Watcher's stony gaze.

Henry joins him shortly after noon, and always has a cigarette to pass the time with. Gary not-so-politely refuses - the first was disgusting enough (not that Gary'd tell him so) - and the two of them sit, sun blazing overhead, and kill time by telling what are basically war stories. Henry pays rapt attention every time Gary speaks, but that's just the way Henry is. He's sucking up to Gary and probably kissed Edgar's ass before him. Gary's tempted to just hand the townie a notepad and pencil before he begins to talk.

He probably would, if not for the little, insignificant fact that he's basically in prison and the only thing he owns is a frustratingly itchy asylum gown and a pair of jeans.

After his playful romp in the yard, it's off to his cell to be heavily sedated and stuffed full of pills. Apparently, Gary has so many prescriptions meant for so many different psychological disorders that the orderlies give them to him special as opposed to poking it in to his cement-like oatmeal every morning. It must be a B block privilege.

This is the routine Gary follows for two whole weeks, uninterrupted and absolutely, insanely repetitive.

Which is why it is very startling when, one day, the endless cycle is snapped. On this day, Gary is manhandled into a straight jacket instead of being force-fed pills. He doesn't go down without a fight, and several orderlies get kicked in the gut before they manage to strap him tightly into the jacket. A tall, black-skinned orderly injects him with something; it makes him feel as if he's attempting to swallow a handful of cotton balls.

"What the _fuck_?" He slurs. It's becoming exceedingly difficult to focus. "I haven't _done _anything."

"You have a visitor." The orderly tells him. "These are only precautions. Behave yourself, and we won't have to do it again the next time."

A visitor? Who in the world would want to visit Gary? He sure as hell didn't want anyone to see him in this state. Gary's not sure whether to shrug indifferently, yell that he doesn't want to see anyone, or narrow his eyes, movie-style, and say, "Send him in."

He's still trying to decide between the three when the door of his cell cracks open again and Pete Kowalski shuffles into the room, fiddling with the cuffs of his pink shirt. Wary-eyed, he looks down at Gary, and then to each of the two remaining orderlies.

"We've sedated him." One of them explains. "We don't know how he'll react to you yet. It's a type of depressant, do you understand the possible effects?"

Petey nods mutely. The expression on his face reminds Gary of Petey's first day at Bullworth, when he shyly announced that he was Gary's new roommate... Gary had replied that it was odd that Ms. Danvers had accidentally mistaken Petey for a boy.

The other orderly tells them that he will remain outside the door, and the pair of white-coats leave. Petey takes a seat across from Gary and wrings his hands nervously.

"'S fucking unnecessary." Gary says slowly. "'M not gonna... _hurt _you or anything."

"No more than you ever did at Bullworth, huh?" Pete gives a stuttery sort of laugh.

Silence stretches between them. Petey wrings his hands some more. His jokes never did fly well when he was anxious.

After a moment, he makes another feeble attempt at conversation. "Your uhm... your hair's grown out."

"...Haven't had much time to... see my barber... lately." Gary mumbles. The tiles of the floor swim in and out of focus.

"Sorry." Petey says.

The orderly appears outside the barred window, looking suspicious. Perhaps he thinks that Petey has snuck something into the ward for Gary since they are being so quiet.

"So," Gary leans back. The jacket is amazingly uncomfortable. "How's Hopkins?"

"He's... alright, I guess. I don't talk to him very much anymore."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I was really busy with the... head boy stuff and all at the end of the year." Gary can't recall the last time Petey acted so awkward. It's been years, not to mention that by the climatic end of school last year he had seemed like such a different person. Maybe it's just Smith's affect on him. Somehow, Gary isn't exactly proud. "And he's usually, you know, hanging out with Zoe now that it's summer."

"The townie girl?"

"Yeah. Well, she's enrolled at Bullworth again now." Petey gives another jittery laugh. "Of course, she spent more time making out with Jimmy than going to class."

Gary snorts. "What a whore."

Petey frowns. So does the orderly, who hasn't retracted his large nose from their conversation yet.

"So, uh, I brought you something." Petey announces, reaching into the pocket of his slacks. The orderly gives an interested forward shuffle. All you can see now are his large eyes lurking through the bars, staring at Pete's hand as he finally fishes something out. "It's um... it's a note, from your mom."

"Oh." Gary says, a little disappointed.

"We met outside. She... she said she didn't have time to come in."

"I'm sure she didn't." Gary replies stalely, letting the paper fall to the floor without bothering to read it. His mother's letters are always the same. Petey doesn't question his actions. "Next time bring me something useful, Femme-boy, like a crowbar."

Petey makes a startled noise and there's a thump as the orderly forgets himself and shoves his face to the door. Gary cackles. "I'm _joking, _Petey-boy. I have a safe plan."

Femme-boy's eyebrows furrow. They both remember the _last _time Gary had a plan.

"Just to get back into Bullworth. I'm not Hopkins, Pete, I'm not moronic enough to try what I did _again_."

Despite this, Petey doesn't look reassured, and Gary can't blame him. A glance at the window tells him that the orderly's eyes are still glued to them.

"Well, I... I should get going, Gary, my mom's waiting for me." Petey's eyes shift briefly; it looks for a moment like he wants to say more, but he just turns. It's obvious that this visit didn't go the way either of them wanted.

"Petey!" Gary shouts, and the younger boy pauses. "I'm glad you came to visit me."

Smith says it all sugar and gratefulness and it surprises Petey, but the orderly takes notice, and that's what Gary was going for. Soon the asylum will know that Gary Smith can tolerate this pink-shirted boy. Gary can't help but smile as he watches the orderlies stop Pete to speak to him. The boy hesitates, looks back at Gary's cell with an unreadable expression on his face. No doubt he's figured out the reason for Gary's random outburst. If there's one person that Gary's known in his entire life that isn't an absolute idiot, it's Peter Kowalski.

A second passes, and he nods to the orderlies. Petey will be back.

-----

When the orderlies tell Gary that Petey will be aiding him in his therapeutic sessions, he doesn't know whether to laugh or throw himself into his cell door until he dies from blunt trauma to the brain. When Petey himself slouches into his cell the following week, looking ready to do the latter himself, and informs Gary sullenly that he will be acting as his mother, Gary thinks that this is quite possibly the second greatest moment of his life.

"Will you be in a _dress_, Petey?" He asks, leaping to his feet. "You'll need to be in character, right? I really like that blue one you have. Or are they making one for you to wear?"

"Shut up, Gary." Petey grimaces at him. "I'm trying to help."

Gary continues, ignoring the younger boy. He's pacing. "I know! We'll braid your hair, Femme-boy. Oh, isn't it like a dream come true?"

Petey scowls, folding his arms and leaning forward. "You're a jerk, Gary. You're _still _a jerk. I thought, you know, that maybe this would help you or something, but you haven't changed at all!"

Gary's movement slides to a stop. There is a painfully silent moment where Petey seems to realize that what he's said has offended him and Gary feels that old, familiar desire to destroy something; do something completely life-shattering to Pete like he almost did to Hopkins. Petey glances fearfully towards the cell door; there is no compulsive orderly today to save him if Gary decides to kill him. Smith's eyes glint for a moment before he takes a long, slow breath, and comes to a decision.

He gives Pete a playful smile. "Sorry, mom."

Petey looks shocked for a second; then he lets forth one of those hesitant laughs. It's so full of _relief _that Gary feels that pang of guilt for hurting Petey all over again. It forces him to take a seat.

"Forget it, I'm not doing this. It's dumb." He says, wrinkling his nose, smoothing the moment over. "I can't think of you as my _mother_."

"Why not?" Petey asks. "You're always calling me a girl. Not.. that I like it, but-"

"A girl, but not any older than thirteen. I mean, look at you blush. My mom is incapable of shame. Her blood is ice, and even if she could blush, you wouldn't see it through her cover up."

Petey laughs. It's natural this time, which makes Gary's chest unclench a fraction or so. He's still sort of amazed that he did this just by staying calm. "I know what you mean. Was your mom born in a Maybelline factory?"

"Hey!" Gary shouts, but he's chuckling, too. "Don't make fun of my mother, Kowalski."

Their laughter subsides; Petey reveals that while he hasn't brought a crowbar, he has snuck in some chocolate, and the two of them sit there, nibbling at it and laughing. It's so familiar and _easy_ that for a while, neither of them know what to say, because distantly they both know that this should be awkward, that their relationship should be broken by now. Yet here they are, and it's like nothing ever happened.

The rest of Petey's visit is carefree, leaves Gary feeling the best he's felt in forever. He has someone to talk to that isn't Henry, who Gary knows only likes him because he's powerful, and Petey has someone to talk to period, because face it, Hopkins isn't great for stimulating conversation. The stay is punctuated with jokes about Gary's mother and Petey telling him to do things like clean his room, and nothing is truly funny enough to be making the both of them laugh like they are, but it's hopelessly alleviating that they can still do this together.

Gary only realizes that he's gone and fucked up when Petey's about to leave and he has to suppress the overwhelming desire to pull the other boy into a hug and ask him to stay. The orderly who sedated him earlier shuts his grungy cell door with a bang, reminding Gary abruptly of where he is and why.

It makes him feel sort of nauseous.

-----

Petey only visits on Wednesdays, which leaves Gary with the rest of the week and nothing to do but kiss orderly ass and complete the challenge of talking to Henry without inhaling any smoke. It's a little game he's created for himself because actually listening to Henry just bores him _that much_.

Tuesday finds Gary sitting near The Watcher, glaring at one of the lawn gnomes and fighting the urge to go and bury his foot in the fat little man. It's not yet twelve, and so he doesn't even have Henry to verbally kick around for a while. Yet the mental image of him beating a ceramic yard decoration to pieces is pretty enthralling. He entertains himself on it for a while until someone yells at him from across the yard.

"Smith!"

Gary slowly turns his head. It's another of the B blockers, standing too far away for Gary to see anything other than the sun glaring off the man's shaven head. The patient raises his fist dramatically, his tag glints in the sunshine, and all Gary can think is: _Well, shit._

"I seen that pyromaniac hanging out with you all the time." The man slurs intelligently.

Gary squints. "Really?"

"Yeah, really, smart ass." He says. "Got yourself a little A blocker girlfriend?"

The other, less-inebriated inmates have begun to notice what's going on. One of them, a short, fat guy whose gown is covered in dirt, shouts, "Naw, he has a little whore what comes to visit him from the outside! Comes to him special."

"Is that so?" Asks the first patient. A grin is forming on his lips very gradually. Gary already dislikes the direction this is going. The inmate steps up to him and gives him a push on his shoulders. "Well? I asked you a question, Smith!"

"No, douche bag, that _isn't _so." Gary growls. "And don't _shove _me."

"Got a lot of guts, kid. I don't like that."

"Yeah, well how very unfortunate for both of us."

The inmates are beginning to circle around him now, all of them murmuring under their breaths, and Gary, for all his outward calm, is still panicking in his mind. Where the hell are the orderlies? Of _course_. It's almost noon; the orderlies that usually preside over them have gone inside to retrieve the A block patients. The B block has fucking planned this.

Gary's brow creases, and the inmate chuckles very quietly. "Heard about you, Gary Smith. Think you're some genius who can take over my asylum the way you did that school?"

"If anything, the morons who run this place are even more easy to manipulate." Gary whispers. "But I don't want _your _damn asylum. It's full of idiots like you."

"Shut up, kid. I been here ten years, and what do you get? A summer!" Spittle flies from the man's mouth. Disgusting. "Well I tell you right now... no pill can fix what I got."

Gary sneers. "So what, you gonna kill me, mister?"

The truth is, Gary could probably take on the assembled patients, especially since a vast majority of them are jacked up on pills at the moment, but he can just see the A blockers and orderlies now. They'll walk out, find Gary Smith surrounded by a gaggle of unconscious loonies, and that'll be the end of his chances for Bullworth. And these guys, or at least the gang leader, is very aware of that.

The inmate gives Gary another push, rougher this time. He trips over the hedges behind him and the wind rushes out of him as he lands, on his back, directly under The Watcher. The man is laughing now as he stands over Gary, legs on either side of his body.

"Maybe so, tough guy, maybe I just will."

He lifts Gary by the blue asylum gown, dragging him off of the ground, and slams him into the statue. Gary bites his tongue as a sharp pain rockets through his shoulder blades. From here, his vision blurry, he can see that it's two minutes until the orderlies will return, A block in tow. Two minutes. He can take this.

The inmate spits in Gary's face and laughs.

-----

"Visitor." The same, dark-skinned orderly as usual admits Petey into Gary's cell the following day.

Gary is sporting a split lip and there's a bruise forming on his jaw from the inmate slugging him. Underneath the open back of his gown, there are several dark purple patches sprouting and a few scrapes as a result of being shoved repeatedly into the statue. Petey takes one look at him and rushes over, nearly knocking him out of his seat in order to inspect him.

"What the-? Gary, what on earth _happened_ to you?"

"I fell." Gary replies sarcastically. Petey presses his lips together and gives him an exasperated look.

"Gary, if you get into fights here, you're not going to-"

"I didn't start it, okay?" Gary interrupts, rubbing his jaw bitterly. "It was these stupid jerk-offs in the yard. They ganged up on me."

Petey eyes him suspiciously, but seems to accept this. Personally, Gary figures he got off lucky. Some orderlies eventually arrived to disentangle him from the inmate who had picked the fight. They had dragged the man, kicking and screaming, across the grounds and back into the asylum while more of the staff got to work breaking up the circle that had formed around the scrap. Gary hadn't seen or heard from the guy the next day in the yard, and the other patients had left him the hell alone without their leader there to rile them up. Henry, of course, was awed by his battle scars. ("Didja fight back, Gary? Didja take on all twelve of them?")

Petey doesn't seem nearly as impressed. He's still clucking over Gary like an angered mother hen.

"Petey, you're swimming in my personal bubble."

"There isn't any water in bubbles. Stop squirming and let me look." Gary huffs and sits rigidly until, after a minute, Petey seems satisfied and leans back, whistling. "They did a number on you."

"Yeah, well, like you said. I can't fight back if I want to get back into Bullworth next year. Gotta have a clean record."

Petey blinks at him for a moment, before asking distractedly if the orderlies have put any disinfectant on the cuts covering his back yet. Gary rolls his eyes and shakes his head no.

"Turn around, then." Petey orders.

"Fuck no. You aren't my mom, Femme-boy." Gary's lip curls and he hops to his feet again, fists clenched at his sides. "Let it go."

Petey's eyes narrow. "Why can't you just accept some honest help? Sit the hell down!"

Gary is so taken aback by this that he sinks back down beside Petey, staring at the boy in bewildered silence.

"Now," Petey says, exceptionally more calm. "Turn around and let me look at your back."

It's still far too intimate for comfort, but Gary scoots sulkily around until his back is to the other boy. Petey tuts behind him and Gary can hear him rustling around. Not being able to see the other boy totally sets him on edge.

"What are you doing?"

No answer.

"Femme-boy, what the hell are you doing back there?"

More rummaging. Still no answer.

"Petey, I _said-_"

"I heard you already. Please calm down." Gary thinks that he liked Petey more when he stuttered. Petey shifts again. "Stay still a minute. I've got some neosporin with me."

Gary frowns. "Why are you carrying _that _around, Femme-boy? ...There are better things to use for lubr-"

"I get beat on alot, okay? Or at least I used to. It comes in handy." Petey cuts him off, apparently guessing where he was going. It makes Gary smile anyway. "Be prepared; it's cold. I'm going to put it on now, alright?"

"If I say it isn't," Gary asks, "Will you let this drop?"

He can practically see Petey grin. "No."

Petey fumbles with the ties to Gary's gown, and even Gary has to fight down a blush at what this symbolizes, so he knows that the other boy's face must be aflame. But he can see it, that set, determined look Petey has, the one he uses in art class, when he's painstakingly going over every line in a sketch or brushstroke to make sure it's perfect. Gary can remember him shyly telling a member of the yearbook committee that making something from nothing was pretty cool, can remember teasing the boy about it back at the dorm and sitting in quiet amazement when Petey would lie on his belly in their room and doodle on the edges of his history drafts.

Fuck. He's totally unprepared for Petey's touch; the chill of the antibiotic cream on the boy's fingers shocking him into a shudder. He gasps like a girl, goes absolutely stiff, and of course, Petey notices. It's completely maddening, like Pete's caught him with his hands down his pants or something.

"Gary," He begins.

"Keep going." Yeah, 'cuz _that's _not something out of a porno film.

Petey makes a strange noise behind him, like he's scared of Gary all over again, and the pressure of his fingers return. It shouldn't be this fucking... I mean, come on, it's his best friend rubbing neosporin into his mangled up back, so what the hell is he doing? Pete's fingers touch his spine, reverently, like he wants to do this, but that's impossible. If he could see the thoughts running through Gary's mind right now, he'd leave and never come back.

There's more overly-loud shifting from Petey, and he resumes what he was doing, higher up now. Gary tries not to let his eyes slide shut as Petey's fingers run along his shoulders, rubbing now, and _fuck_, Gary's not _cut_ there, so what on earth is Pete _doing _this to him for? Smoothing over his back, skipping lightly across the bruises spreading down his torso, almost like-

"God." Gary gasps as Petey's mouth, wet and hot, presses to the nape of his neck, slides down a fraction, sucking at his skin. "You're..."

He gets the feeling that Petey's been waiting for something like this. His fingers are pressing more firmly now, circling, and each time they fumble over a bruise, Gary's forced to shiver. It's just enough pain that it blends with the bone-numbing goodness that is Pete's lips and tongue on his neck. Petey's hands are snaking around his sides now, solid, fingers curling on his stomach, and Gary panics, wants to shout at Petey to stop, or maybe never to stop, or maybe just to say his name, anything for him to keep doing _that _with his tongue, _anything_.

It's a harsh whisper that Gary doesn't even recognize as it comes out of him, "_Pete_."

"Mr. Kowalski."

They both freeze.

"I just wanted you to know that visiting hours are about to end." The orderly outside the door doesn't seem to notice what sort of thing he has just interrupted. For the first time, Gary thanks God that there are bars on his window.

"Of course, thank you." Petey smiles, detaching himself from Gary as if nothing was going on in the first place. Gary wonders how Pete manages to sound so collected when he himself can barely piece together the importance of what's just happened.

"W-wait." Gary stammers, as Petey collects his things. He can see that Femme-boy's legs are trembling as he turns to leave. "You can't just-"

"Mom's waiting. I'll see you next Wednesday, Gary." Petey glances around nervously, his face still glowing red, and again there's more that they both want to say, but he just waves and walks away like it's _simple_.

Just like that, they're back at square one.

-----

Femme-boy doesn't visit the following Wednesday, the little coward. It pisses Gary off how much he misses the bastard, but it pisses him off more that Petey ran from this... this... whatever it is that they've started between them.

What makes him the angriest though, is the thought that he might actually _need_ Petey in order to make it through his week.

"God damn it." He mutters, leaning his head back against The Watcher and staring at the gray sky overhead without really looking. "It's not like he's medication or anything."

Even Gary admits that it's pretty pathetic, being all but addicted to a person. He wishes Henry smelt less like cigarette smoke and more like Femme-boy's shampoo.

"What's up, Gary?" Henry asks, leaning over the B block patient with a cigarette dangling from his lip.

Gary groans. "Haven't you run out of those things yet?"

"Did you miss it?" Henry's face falls. "I escaped like two times last week. I had pocketfuls that they didn't even notice."

"Oh, goody." Gary mumbles as the townie scoots over to sit beside him.

"So," The other boy presses, "what's up?"

Smith sighs. It's only 12:05 and he's already wishing the clock would hurry up. "Nothing's up, Henry."

They sit in the quiet for a while, Gary staring up at the clouds without blinking and Henry sucking on his cigarette stick like it's candy. The other inmates are shuffling about around them, muttering to themselves as patrolling orderlies follow them with their eyes. Still no sign of the one trouble maker that took the liberty of kicking the shit out of Gary the other week. Maybe the orderlies decided to kill him or something. Knowing Gary's luck, probably not. And now he has no one to rub him down with neosporin.

_Damn it_.

"Hey, Henry." He mutters. "You seem like the sort of overcompensating adolescent who might be confused about his preferences."

"Uh." Says Henry, looking lost.

Gary isn't one to beat around the bush; he can't believe he's about to ask this of a chain-smoking pyromaniac. He twists around to stare Henry in the face. "Ever made out with a guy?"

Fuck. It's just the sort of spur-of-the-moment thing that always gets him into trouble later on, but he doesn't care.

"What? N-no.. who told..." Henry stammers, falls silent as Gary raises an eyebrow. "This once... with Duncan. But it wasn't a serious thing, you know? We we're totally drunk."

His companion laughs, leans back against the statue with his arms behind his head and crosses his ankles. "Did he hold you after?"

Henry grunts. "I'm not a queer. Don't tell anyone about this."

"Who's there to tell?" Gary shrugs, still smiling at Henry's discomfort. "Besides, I'm not a hypocrite."

The other boy swallows hard, looking uncomfortable, and lowers his voice, "You mean you...?"

"Made out with a boy? No." Gary tells him, and wishes that he wished it were true. He closes his eyes against the accusing sky.

Henry is silent for a moment, measuring what he's about to say. Finally, he leans in closer to Gary. "... But you want to?"

"Maybe."

The taller boy shifts and clears his throat. "... With me...?"

Gary's eyes open. He wants to flinch, wants to say no, but Henry's already leaning forward to steal his first kiss away from him. He wants that to mean more, wants to shove Henry off of him, swear, ask the townie what the fuck he thinks he's doing, wants Henry to taste less like smoke and more like the chocolate he and Petey shared, like he imagines Petey would, wants to kick and scream and maybe even cry, but his eyelids slide shut again and he grabs Henry by the collar to pull him down, closer, mashing their lips together. His mouth fills with the flavor of nicotine, so strong he wants to choke.

It begins to rain.

-----

Henry refuses to speak to or make eye contact with him afterward, and that's just as well. Just looking at the townie makes Gary feel sick to his stomach.

So does that fact that it's now Wednesday, the last one he'll have before the summer's over and he's hauled back to the lovable dump that is Bullworth Academy, where he'll probably be the focus of all the cliques' pent-up rage and Petey will avoid him for the rest of his life. Gary doesn't know whether he's madder at Petey or himself for that.

He stares ruefully at the tag around his wrist. For all the pills they're giving him, he doesn't feel like he's improving. At least, he isn't sorry for anything he's done, especially not that thing with Femme-boy. And why should he be? He doesn't _want _to see that chicken again; doesn't want to give him noogies, or mock him for watching the swim team or wearing a pink shirt, and he certainly doesn't want to be close to him. In fact, if Crabblesnitch is planning on making them share a room again this year, the old windbag's got another thing coming. Gary Smith is not going to grovel for friendship he doesn't need. If Petey can't deal with his feelings, the stupid girl, then it isn't Gary's problem.

Gary has three more days in this dumb place and then he's going home, and he _doesn't need Petey_. Why _should _he?

"I'm not sorry." He hisses at his tag.

"Kid, talking to yourself probably isn't going to help you get out of here faster." Announces the orderly outside his cell with a good-natured laugh. It's very agitating to Gary that he's startled, since the orderly is in the process of unlocking his door and he should have noticed. "Anyway, Mr. Kowalski's here. Behave yourself."

Gary looks up quickly. His throat is suddenly very dry, also agitating, but not as much as the little leap his heart gives is. No, that's really annoying.

"Hey, Gary." Petey greets him. Again, he is fidgeting with the ends of his sleeves, something he hasn't done since his first visit. Gary just stares at him from where he sits, frowning. "...Right, so... Sorry I didn't visit last Wednesday, I was-"

"You were probably very busy." Gary says snidely. "Lots of stuff to do now that you've got a backbone, right? Why would you want to waste your time with a nut job at the asylum when you could be out having a life, isn't that _right_?"

Petey is silent for a second, his eyes wide. "No, Gary-"

"Wait! Let me guess, let me guess. Hopkins remembered that he was supposed to be your friend. Of course you leapt at the chance to be his little minion again. Who needs Gary? Forget him, just like good old times. Is that it?"

"If you'd let me explain for once-" Petey tries, shaking his head.

"Why'd you even bother to come back? Don't let _me _spoil your fun, little Petey."

Something shatters, and Petey sets his jaw and steps forward. In one horrible moment Gary realizes that Pete isn't afraid of him anymore, and he isn't sure how else to get Petey to _stay_ without that fear. "You never listen! It wasn't anything like that, alright? I wasn't here because mom's car broke down! That's it Gary, there's no secret plot or underlying hatred of you, _I just couldn't make it_."

"Don't lie to me." Gary growls, staggering to his feet and stepping forward to close his fingers around Petey's collar. There's a sort of humiliating desperation in his voice that he wasn't planning on. "_Don't lie to me_!"

Pete winces as his back hits the wall. It's not rough enough to actually hurt, but now there's nowhere to go between the cold, solid wall and that look in Gary's eyes. "I'm not."

There was a time when Gary would have let himself snap, would have punched Petey in the stomach for betraying him like he did, but he only stands there and stares, clutching Pete's shirt. There was a time when Petey would have stuttered and squirmed under his grip, would have been scared, but he holds perfectly still and stares straight back, gaze unwavering. They've both changed.

"You can't just do this to me, Petey." Gary says. His voice cracks. "You can't just... pretend that you..."

"I won't." Petey swears in a hushed voice. They both blink at each other; neither one of them has made to move.

Petey is the first to shift. Biting his lip, he hesitantly raises his hands to Gary's face, runs the pads of his fingers over the other boy's features, smoothing them out. His touch lingers over Gary's scar, quavering slightly, running down his cheeks and jaw to map out his lips, his chin. Gary's grip on his shirt loosens, his face relaxes. It's another one of those moments that's so impossibly easy that neither of them know what to say, and both of them are afraid to break it. Dammit, Gary didn't want to forgive him this quickly.

His fingers continue downwards, so slowly that Gary's teetering on the edge of insanity. He wants to take control of this, because it's a scary sort of vulnerability, letting Petey open him like this, but he knows better than to rush the other boy in this, when Pete's finally looking at _him _as though he were one of those art class sculptures. This is the only way he knows how to apologize, and he doesn't want for this to end up sloppy and rushed, not when Petey's trying to fix him and succeeding better than any pill Gary's ever had in his body.

Peter's eyes stay glued onto Gary's, another thing he's unwilling to break, even as he strokes Gary's torso roughly enough to make the other boy's eyelids flutter. At this point, Gary's beyond caring that his breathing is uneven, mostly since he can feel Petey's own against his lips, staccato and shaky, and still Petey's maintaining this weird control over him. He'd never imagined it would happen like this, that Petey would be the one to initiate their kiss, or that it would be Petey's tongue that breached the seal of both their lips, but it is, and God, Pete does _not _taste like chocolate, but it's amazing and slick inside his mouth anyway, and Gary can sort of understand why Henry treats those cigarettes he craves like candy now. This close, all Gary can smell, feel, or taste is Petey, and it's like he's being devoured or maybe doing the devouring, and Petey's fingers are now beneath the asylum gown, hooked in the waistband of his jeans. His heart is thudding in his throat.

They still haven't broken the silence, and Gary's too proud and stubborn to beg for anything, even now, but he knows that Petey must be reading him; Petey's always been able to read him.

_Make this okay again. Fix me._

And Petey's answer isn't anything stammered or soft-spoken, it's assuring, absolute. A promise.

_I will._

They move together, the rustle of clothing and a quickening crescendo of harsh panting between them fills the room. This insistent rushing is flooding his ears, the asylum is gray background noise, and Gary's face is buried in Petey's shoulder and Petey's breath is warm in his ear, and it's really a miracle that no orderly bursts in and intrudes upon this moment, considering where they are, but it's just him and Petey and the wall - the solitary thing that's keeping them on their feet. Even as he feels something large break inside of him, he knows it's good, like a gear is locking into place, like for once in Gary's life things are clicking together and _working. _

For the first time since he arrived at Happy Volts, Gary feels as if he's finally, _finally _going to get better.

-----

His mother signs him out of the asylum the following Friday, to the delight of the orderlies. Apparently, he's one of the few people who's recovered and been checked out of the asylum, and that's good for their reputation or something. Gary thinks they're probably just happy to be rid of him.

The ride home is driven in total silence. It's raining outside again, a steady dribble, and the tires of the car are making loud, slick noises as they saw through side-of-the-road puddles. Gary's mom has this obnoxious thing she does when she's anxious where she chews on her lips, and she's doing it now as an alternative for speaking, with a stunning amount of vigor. Beside her in the passenger seat, Gary is mimicking the action. It's a nervous habit that he can't seem to shake. That, and his lips still taste kinda like Pete around the edges.

Gary is aware of how pathetic he's become over Femme-boy, but he can't really bring himself to care about his pride at the moment.

Finally, her polished fingernails drumming on the steering wheel, his mother speaks. "We were planning on bringing you back to the academy on Monday, Gary."

"I knew that." Gary tells her softly, inspecting imaginary dirt underneath his nails. "You told me when you dropped me off at Happy Volts."

"I remember. I just wanted to tell you that Dr. Crabblesnitch asked me to drive you there today so that he could speak with you, so there's been a change in plans."

Gary's reply is casual, distracted. "I sorta figured, since you missed a turn back there."

His mother blinks, tongue in her cheek, looking irritated. The car swivels slowly, spewing water from beneath the wheels. Gary had forgotten what New Coventry looked like, but it isn't particularly exciting to see a few greasers and townies duking it out in an alley as they pass, which is all that New Coventry has to offer at the moment.

What is pretty exciting is that his mother had the courtesy to bring him a shirt, and the asylum gown is off forever, stuffed between his shoes and the floor of the car. He refuses to thank her.

"You just know everything, don't you? Nothing gets past you."

Gary raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms, looking innocent. "I don't know _everything_. I do know the way home... And how to make kipferl."

Mrs. Smith chooses not to reply to this, instead distracting herself by examining her own face in the rear view mirror. That's alright, because Gary doesn't feel like talking to her anyway.

They are driving across the bridge to Bullworth Academy; Gary can see the ocean spanning out beneath them. He can't remember the last time he swam in it. It never seemed important. Petey likes to swim. He should have taken Petey to the beach.

That hadn't seemed important either.

Gary's mother stops the car with a squeak of the breaks. They park outside the gates of the academy and the doors make a loud popping sound as his mom unlocks them. He's glad it's over; this is the most agonizing car ride he's ever been forced to sit through.

He pulls the handle of the door and sets one foot on the pavement before his mother catches him suddenly by the wrist. He halts, but doesn't give her the satisfaction of turning to look at her, and when she finally says something, it's so quiet that he can barely hear her. It's a tiny, uncharacteristic squeak. "Gary, you know I'm sorry."

"What for?" Gary asks, the corners of his mouth twitching a little more than he would like as he forces a smile. "Parents dump their kids off in mental asylums all the time."

Mrs. Smith makes a small noise beside him, forcing him to turn around in the middle of exiting the car. It shocks him to the core to see that his mother is crying. He can't remember her ever crying over anything.

"You hate me, I know it. Who can blame you?"

"I don't _hate _you." He says, screwing up his face. He wouldn't call it hate, exactly.

Shit. He hadn't expected this. It's drizzling rain outside, but Gary is frozen and can't bring himself to shut the car door. His mother sniffles, rubbing at her eyes. Her mascara is smearing unattractively, but neither one of them cares. "I am sorry, God, I'm sorry. I love you Gary, I love you, okay?"

From the sound of it, she's been thinking about this moment long and hard. Gary swallows painfully around the dry lump in his throat. It's the blinding, startling moment when Petey leaned forward to kiss him on the neck all over again and he isn't certain of what to do now, this is so impossible. He feels like he might have been electrocuted. Yes, maybe he's dead.

"I... I love you, too." He says, though he isn't sure he does, not yet. The might-be lie makes his mother sob again and a feeling of relief overcomes him, like a weight that he wasn't even aware of being lifted off his stomach.

"R-remember to take your medicine." She murmurs shakily.

Gary stares, amazed. "I will."

"Alright. I'll call you."

"Alright."

He gets out and shuts the door behind him and his mom drives away with another long squeal, leaving him rooted to the spot in front of the Bullworth entrance for the third time in his life. The large stone gargoyle perched atop the entrance looks like something out of a nightmare in the gloom. It stares down at him, reminding him a great deal of The Watcher. It's nostalgic, standing out in the rain and staring at the gate and thinking that he _must_ be dreaming. It's exactly like his first day at the academy, which also involved his mother zooming squeakily away in a cloud of car exhaust, rain, and disbelief.

Minus the 'I love you''s and the crying.

"What are you doing here?" A harsh question jars him out of his thoughts.

There's a boy in front of the gates, a shaven-headed, freckle-faced boy who's glaring at him like Gary's some particularly gross junk on the bottom of his shoe. Just looking at the boy makes something in Gary's gut burn with hatred. Fantastic. And he had been _planning_ to try for a clean record this year. Oh well, no use in shoving down his urges.

"Oh, James. Having a good first day?" He claps his hands together. "How's little Zoe?"

Jimmy bares his teeth. Excellent. "I asked you what you were doing here, pig."

"Haven't you heard, Hopkins?" Gary laughs, though he's feeling a little shaken from his exchange with his mother. "I'm still _attending _this garbage dump of a school."

"Oh, bullshit!" Jimmy shouts, stepping closer to the gate and looking ready to kill. "You're _kidding _me!"

_Ah. _

Gary steps up too, grinning. "Afraid not, Jimmy-boy." He leans in close, his nose almost touching the wet iron bars. "You didn't win. Now open the gate, Dr. Crabblesnitch is waiting for me."

"I'm not sure I believe you." Jimmy says, squinting more that usual at him through the bars, distrust written all over his face. At this point, Gary is just fucking sick of bars.

"You don't have to believe me, but_ I do _have to get in to speak with Dr. Crabblesnitch, so stop being an _obstruction_."

Hopkins stares at him wordlessly. They're both getting soaked. The gargoyle is still staring down at him, observing.

"Look, do you want me to empty my pockets or something, you psychopath? Open the gate." Gary prompts.

Hopkins grimaces tightly, but he pulls the gates open with a creak and stands aside for Gary to pass through. Gary chuckles and attempts to put his arm around Jimmy's shoulder, but the other boy growls and jerks quickly away from him.

"Like you have any right to call _me_ a psychopath." He spits.

Gary smiles, pantomimes being slugged in the stomach and laughs when the other boy shakes his head in disgust. "Can't we put the past behind us, Jimmy-boy?"

"I don't think so." Jimmy grumbles, and proceeds to escort him to Crabblesnitch's office, like he's untrustworthy or something.

What an idiot. Gary's never lied outright in his life.

-----

Dr. Crabblesnitch's office hasn't changed one little bit since he's been gone, it seems. It's exactly the same as it was two years ago, in fact, when he was first admitted to Bullworth as a freshman. Even Dr. Crabblesnitch is wearing the same brown suit as always. It's almost laughable. There's no way that Bullworth is a microcosm for the whole world if it never _changes_. No way in hell. Gary knows this for a fact now.

Dr. Crabblesnitch steeples his fingers and stares at his newly re-enrolled student from over his hands. "You've been keeping your nose clean, have you boy?"

It's the same old spiel as it always is with Crabblesnitch. Gary has already run over this conversation in his head a million times at Happy Volts, and it's following his imaginary lecture precisely. It's scary sometimes, how well he can read people, but it's useful sometimes, too.

"Yes sir, Dr. Crabblesnitch." Gary replies, scratching his cheek nonchalantly. "As you can see by the file kept on me at the asylum as well as the reports from the orderlies themselves. I think Mr. Mittwoch was especially convinced of my full recovery."

Dr. Crabblesnitch nods, looking appeased. It's like Gary's just fed a big, ugly bulldog a piece of steak. "Indeed you have been keeping clean, Smith. Well done."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now, you're aware that you will be on thin ice from now on, boy?"

Gary nods, resisting the desire to roll his eyes at Crabblesnitch's predictability. "Of course."

"Hmm... " Dr. Crabblesnitch drones. "This means no joining of any school teams... "

No big loss there.

"...You will be expected to attend each and every one of your classes on time with the risk of expulsion, and you will report to Nurse MacRae twice daily, after classes, as well as in the evening on weekends for your medication, again at the risk of expulsion."

"Entirely reasonable, sir." Gary says, tongue between his teeth.

"Do you have any questions, Smith?"

Gary thinks. He has a lot of questions, most of them regarding the head's mental health and reasoning, but he figures that none of them would help him any in the long run, so he keeps quiet.

The old man nods, closing his eyes and inhaling loudly through his nose. "Very well. I have a question for you, Smith."

"Yes, sir?" Gary raises his eyebrows. This wasn't part of the conversation he'd planned out, and that takes him by surprise.

Crabblesnitch regards him seriously, a small frown outlining the creases on his face like they've been traced in ink. "Do you believe you have recovered?"

"Ye-" Gary stops. Rarely does he ever not know the answer to a question, but this is one of those few times when his mind goes absolutely blank. Does he honestly, really, truly honestly think that he's better now? No. No, there wasn't anything wrong with him in the first place... But he has Petey now... Hell, he sort of has his mom now. And he has changed.

Damn.

The real question is if he's okay with the way things are now, the way things have become because of his actions. He hesitates, the answer's obvious, he should say yes, but it won't roll off his stupid tongue.

_Damn_.

"Well, boy?" Dr. Crabblesnitch has apparently run out of patience for the soundless, life-uprooting domino chain he's set off.

Gary's jaw works silently. He thinks of Jimmy, refusing to forgive him, and of Petey, forgiving him so easily it hurt. And of his mother, who he isn't sure he's forgiven, regretting her own actions.

"... Yes, sir. I guess I do."

Dr. Crabblesnitch, for once, does not seem completely oblivious to the weight of Gary's answer, and doesn't comment. "I trust that you remember the way to your room, boy."

Gary licks his lips, trying to moisten them. They're surprisingly chapped all of the sudden. "Yes sir."

-----

He hurries to the boys' dorm.

He will never, ever admit it, but he knows that he's only rushing to avoid the other students. He knows they hate him, knows they must resent him just as much as Hopkins does. All he wants is to see Petey. It's only been two days but it feels like years and years, and the distance between the main building and the dormitory is way too long. Not to mention filled with students who are glaring at him and whispering as he passes. He catches only flashes of their comments, but it's enough.

"Wasn't he expelled?"

"What is Crabblesnitch thinking, letting scum like him back into the school?"

"God, he makes me wanna go give a nerd an atomic wedgie. Right now."

"Bet he still thinks he runs the place, loser."

By the time he shoulders his way into the boys' dormitory, he feels like he's just battled his way through a field of angry jocks even though not one classmate has physically touched him. The dorm hallway is blessedly void of bullies and nerds and all those other people he doesn't want to deal with. The only person he can see, actually, is Hopkins, who is staring mindlessly at the television like the idiot he is and hasn't even noticed Gary standing in the doorway, glaring at the back of his head.

But he doesn't want to mess with Jimmy either. He's exhausted, and there's only one reason to be here, as far as he's concerned.

Petey is curled up in his bed, face buried halfway into his pillow and navy sheets drawn all the way up to his chin, a book held open by his thumb right near his nose. His eyes are fluttering and in the pin-drop silence of the room, Gary can hear him breathing. He never stopped to actually notice Pete asleep before. Yet another seemingly unimportant important thing.

The mattress squeaks as his weight is added, and he hopes that he doesn't wake Petey. He still isn't sure that he's allowed to do this yet: look at Petey and not pester or insult him. He's not even sure he can, but maybe that's one of the reasons Petey likes him. It's a possibility; he likes Pete for his infuriatingly feminine attitude, after all, and his mother loved his father despite his love for alcohol. Gary blanches. He doesn't want to think about that right now, doesn't want to think of anything except how now he can do whatever he wants with Peter and to hell with the prefects and administration and James Hopkins.

He's not sure when exactly his priorities switched, but they have.

Gary glances around the room quickly, then leans forward to kiss Petey's forehead. The younger boy sniffs beneath him and he continues, down the slope of Petey's face, and dammit, the kid is soft all over. Refusing to think of what Petey will say when he awakens to this, Gary presses their lips together. Beneath him, Petey squirms, eyelashes flickering open, brows knitting in confusion. Obviously, he wasn't prepared to wake up in this manner - something Gary plans to eventually rectify.

"Gary?" He mumbles, so softly that Gary can only hear it because he's so close. "You're here?"

It's a bit like he's returned from war.

"No, you're having another wet dream, Femme-boy. Sorry, I'm sure puberty will end for you someday." Gary mocks, but he can't bring himself to mean it, not when Pete's still looking sleepy and flushed like that.

Femme-boy laughs at him. "I've finished with that, and you know it."

"Damn right."

Petey pulls him down by his collar. He can't even be properly miffed that his shirt is all wrinkled now. Petey tastes really good. Gary has his belt almost undone and his hands up the other boy's pink oxford shirt when Petey grabs Gary by the wrists to force him to halt. Smith sighs in exasperation and leans back, keeping his hands stubbornly in place.

"Listen," Femme-boy says. Gary finds it hard not to be distracted by his swollen lips as he speaks. Damn ADD. "Don't... don't do this with anyone else, okay?"

Gary snorts. "What makes you think I would? Even if I wanted to, everybody here just wants to knee me in the balls."

"Well... I saw Jimmy with someone other than Zoe the other day... And I, I mean, they've always been so close, it was kinda scary. I just don't want anyone to do that to me, you know?"

The older boy stiffens above him, makes a face like Petey has bitten him, and roughly pulls his hands away from the warm, softness of Petey's torso. Growling, he quickly shuffles off of the bed. Pete sits up, looking utterly confused. "What?"

"I am _not _Hopkins." Gary spits, backing away, suddenly, inexplicably pissed off at the boy on the bed. Somehow, he's sure this isn't the real reason, but it feels better to be angry anyway. "I am nothing like him, and if that bastard wants to go and get his ass kicked by Zoe Taylor, then he can, but I can't believe that you would compare me to that... that... "

"I wasn't trying to say you were like Jimmy, Gary." Petey says pacifyingly. "And I wasn't trying to make Jimmy sound bad, either, I just-"

"So you're jealous of Hopkins now? Is that what you're saying?" Gary demands. "You'd rather have him than me, isn't that how it's always been!?"

"Gary, no. God damn it, I was only... Forget it!" Femme-boy is off the bed now, too, looking furious, and again, Gary isn't sure how he's supposed to react to Petey being fearless. This is happening way too often.

His only defense is to sneer and play it cool. It's all he can be comfortable with now. "Fine. I can forget it. I just hate to break your little heart, Petey-boy."

"Is this... " Petey's anger fades quickly, like it always has, like a flash of terrifying lightning. Now he just seems tired, and Gary can't blame him for that, because he's pretty tired of himself, too. Pete sighs and looks up at him, defeated. "Is this how it's going to be again? I thought... that after what happened... I thought it was going to be different, Gary, I thought we both had changed. Didn't you say that?"

"Maybe this is how I am, Kowalski." Gary pushes. "Maybe I _can't_ change. And if you don't want me here, then fine. I don't need you."

They both know this isn't true. Petey has always, always read him like a radar, flawlessly. Effortlessly.

_I _need _you, God, I need you._

"Gary, I do want you here. In fact, and it scares me, alot, I think I may even... love you." Petey swallows with difficulty. His hands are quaking, fisting in the sheets."I'm sure I do. I think I did a long time ago."

Gary feels as if the bottoms of his loafers have melted to the carpet. His heart is hammering loudly in his throat, but his face is hot; he's still angry, indignant. He wishes he could tell Petey that he loves him back, but he can't. "You know, you're the second person that's said that to me today, and I don't believe either of you."

Petey snuffles, and where Gary once would have mocked him for it, now he can't make himself care. It's just Pete, the way he is, and Gary wishes he _could _believe him. He _wants_ to. "I do... I-I'm not even sure _why _anymore, but I'm not lying. I swear to God I'm not."

"How can you? How can you love me, idiot, after everything I did to you?"

Petey licks his lips. "... Are you apologizing?"

Gary shifts, and they are silent for a long time. The sound of the television static drifts in from the hallway to flood the empty space. Gary certainly feels like he's drowning. "... Maybe."

Peter hesitates and then, amazingly, he smiles, and once more Gary's chest feels like it's been unweighted. It's unreal, morphing so quickly into something new, but Petey's smile is teeth and genuine gladness, and Gary thinks that it's possibly worth it just to have Femme-boy look at him like that for the first time in forever.

"That's good enough."

It may be the first time anyone's told him that he's good enough for anything, ever, and it feels really, really great. Then Petey kisses him, tastes like recently eaten chocolate and mint, and his arms loop tight around Gary's waist. His fingers push into Gary's back, like the taller boy is something broken but reparable, and Gary thinks that yeah, it is definitely, _definitely_ worth it.

And maybe he is fixable. If anyone or anything can make him better, it's Petey. Not asylums or orderlies or daily medications, just Pete Kowalski and his fingers and tongue.

"Hey, Petey. I was thinking that we should go to the beach tomorrow." He announces, and his lips brush Pete's as he talks. It's like being shocked with every shift, in a really fucking good way. "What do you think?"

"Yeah, I'd like that." Petey agrees, grinning more broadly than Gary has ever seen him grin. "Alot."

Outside, the rain clears for this moment, for the two of them, for Petey to nuzzle Gary's adam's apple; for Gary to choke on what was supposed to be a confession, and sunlight tumbles in on them through the blinds.


End file.
